


Rat Out of Hell

by ThayerKerbasy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Crowley is a rat, Gen, Post-Episode s12e21 There's Something About Mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: A fugitive in his own palace, Crowley's options were limited.  Fortunately his new meatsuit seemed to blend in nicely.





	Rat Out of Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grey2510](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/gifts).



Crowley was having a Bad Day.  Lucifer had not only reclaimed control of his vessel, but had somehow reversed the spells so he had control over Crowley’s meatsuit as well.  As a consequence, Crowley had suffered humiliation at Lucifer’s hands and had barely escaped death by angel blade.  If (when!) he got out of this, heads would roll.

Unfortunately, his current body had entirely too many limitations to enact revenge.  No vocal cords, weak eyesight, and no opposable thumbs were near the top of the list.  If the Winchesters had been taller than him before, they would tower over his tiny body now.  He wasn’t complaining though, given the alternative.  All things considered, it could have been much worse.

Following his formerly loyal subjects was simplicity itself.  None of them suspected the rat of being anything but a rat, and the palace was crawling with those.  Crowley trailed along behind them to see where they were taking his sorely mistreated vessel.  When he saw, his indignant squeak nearly gave him away.  The disrespectful cretins let his former body fall to the ground with a thump.  His suit was forever ruined thanks to Lucifer, but that wasn’t the point.  They left him in the dirt and began to dig a hole.  They planned to bury him!

On the other hand, if they thought he was dead, that was a fairly respectful way to honour their fallen king.  Overlooking the inevitable difficulty in retrieving his rightful body from six feet under, he was somewhat touched by the gesture.  He wished he could stay to watch the undoubtedly lovely memorial they would perform, but he had to leave before he could be spotted.

Running on tiny rat legs felt like it took forever.  By the time Crowley had descended past the dungeons, he was certain he had been running for an eternity, but in reality it had taken less than an hour.  He hadn’t thought anything could have been more tedious than riding in Castiel’s ancient Ford F-150, but after running through his palace as a rat, he was prepared to admit he had been wrong.

When he finally reached the tunnels in the lowest level past the dungeons, he nearly gave in.  While still surrounded by Lucifer’s flunkies, it wasn’t safe to teleport — or to use any of the other powers available to him — for fear of being noticed and tracked.  He was so close and yet so far.  With a little rat sigh, Crowley scurried through the tunnels.

He smelled the kennels before he was anywhere close, the smells of meat and smoke and fur familiar and welcoming like nothing else had been.  It was then — approximately five seconds too late to turn back — that he remembered the pups.  What would have been tiny little half-corporeal fluffballs in his usual form were suddenly giant looming shadowy beasts who would see him as prey.

If he turned back, he’d still be caught.  If he ran ahead, he’d get the pups excited.  If he tried stealth, he’d likely end up too close to the pups when they spotted him to even hope to get away.  It seemed hopeless, but stealth seemed the most likely option, so he crept forward, sticking close to the wall to minimize the chance of being seen.

He actually made it into the kennel proper before being spotted.  Small yipping barks heralded the flickering forms that stumbled around the many rocks casting shadows throughout the cavernous room.  The little creatures had been spawned only a few weeks prior, which made them more than old enough to hunt rats.  Out of desperation, Crowley tried to call Juliet, but all that came out was an undignified screech.

The pack bowled over Crowley, a pool of shadows with teeth and fur, not a pup among them able to fully control their corporeal form.  He tried to fend them off with his teeth and tiny claws, but nothing connected.  Then a firm set of jaws scooped him up whole.

It was over.  He was fully prepared to abandon his rat body and risk discovery, but then he was released.  Opening eyes he didn’t remember closing, Crowley found himself atop a rock staring into the eyes of his favourite hellhound.  “Juliet!” he tried to say, but again, all that came out was a squeak.  Still, she seemed to understand, because her tail wagged excitedly.

That was the easy part done then.  Though he cringed internally at the thought of what still needed to be done, part of him relished the challenge.  Gathering his hind legs under him, Crowley leapt onto Juliet’s head, slid down her neck, then turned around and grabbed onto fistfuls of her fur.  “Alright Juliet, let’s go for a run.”

* * *

It was Saturday, which was Rowena’s day to bet on the horse races.  A little charm here, a little animal speech there, and it was easy to convince the horses to decide the winner in advance.  She promised sugar cubes all around if they delivered for her, and she always kept her end of the bargain.  It was a lucrative arrangement for both her and the horses.  She didn’t bet on every race, just enough to keep her in the style to which she had become accustomed.

Having just collected her winnings from the third race while the fourth was on, it was time for Rowena to “commune with nature” again.  If anyone had been watching her, they would have seen her eyes turn a misty white, but of course no one was watching.  She was always careful about using her magic quietly in an out of the way nook to avoid detection.

The horses neighed and whinnied amongst themselves until they reached an agreement; Dante’s Inferno would place second and Impending Storm would win.  Again, she thanked her giant friends and promised delivery of treats after the race.  With all of them having a stake in things turning out the way they had promised, they would all cooperate.  Rowena was making good use of her lessons in teamwork.

* * *

From his position on Juliet’s back, Crowley gained a new appreciation for teleportation.  Without thumbs, it was difficult to get a good grip on short hellhound fur, so the entire ride was one long panicked session of almost falling to his death in the shadow realm.  Still, it beat the hell out of walking.

When he had asked Juliet to find his mother, there had been some whining protest — Juliet and Rowena didn’t exactly see eye to eye — but he had managed to convince his loyal hound that it was necessary.  He hadn’t expected to end up at a horse race.  Testing the air with her nose, Juliet threaded her way around the stands, avoiding the crowds so nobody would notice the rat riding an invisible hound.  That might have been hard to cover up.

When he was close enough, Crowley patted Juliet’s head, gave her a good rub behind her ears, then hopped down.  From the ground, he looked up into her bright red eyes and patted her paw.  “Good girl.  Now go on home and be safe.”

He didn’t wait to watch her leave, but instead scurried up the stands for the seating as quickly as he could.  He should have been surprised by how easily he adapted to a non-human form, but the climb left none of his attention to wonder.  Tiny claws fitted in tiny flaws in the wood, up and up until he smelled that combination of herbs and flowers that three hundred years could not erase from his memory.

Once Crowley had his mother in his sights, he watched and waited.  When she got up to go to collect her winnings, he followed her.  And when she snuck into the stables to give sugar cubes to the horses, he followed her there, too.  She had just begun to coordinate the next race with the next group when Crowley decided it was time to make his move.

From a spot in the rafters, Crowley called down, “Lovely to see you again, Mother.”

Of course, it came out sounding more like, “Squeak squeaksqueaksqueak, squeak,” but that didn’t matter.  The spell she had used to communicate with the horses worked just as well to translate his squeaks.  The hard part was throttling down all of the resentment he bore her, but he had a lifetime of practice with that.

Startled into looking up, Rowena curiously scanned the rafters until she located him.  “Fergus?  I always knew ye were a rat.  It’s lovely that ye feel so...free ta be yerself.”

Crowley would have loved to have scowled at her, but his new face refused to cooperate.  “Very funny, Mother.  How I have missed your delightful wit.  Now, if we’re quite done poking fun, I could use your assistance.”

And the woman, curse her bloody soul, covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.  From behind her hand, she said, “Terribly sorry, but if you could only see yerself.  Whiskers twitchin’ an’ yer wee tail flickin’ about.”

It was all too much.  He would have loved to have done something intimidating, but between Lucifer controlling Hell’s souls and being stuck in a body incapable of magic, about all he could do were basic demon tricks.  Even in his usual form, he doubted a flash of red eyes and the ability to teleport would do more than amuse her.  As a rat...Crowley made a conscious effort to still his whiskers and tail.  “Mother.  I need your help.  I only just managed to escape my body before Lucifer stabbed it and— “

“Lucifer?!” she said in disbelief.  “No, no, no, we locked Lucifer back in the Cage.  He’s supposed ta be sealed away forever.  Fergus, what have ye done?”

Holding up his forepaws, Crowley tried to mollify her.  “To be fair, the Cage was irreparably damaged when the Darkness was freed.  I had my people construct a vessel to hold Lucifer that was entirely under my control.  It should have held him prisoner for eternity.  I don’t know how the bastard managed it, but it’s all gone the other way and now he’s got complete control over my abandoned meatsuit.  So I need your help to break the runes and mend the damage.”

“Oh, that’s all, then?  Ye just need me ta make off with yer stinkin’ corpse — which is no doubt under the watchful eye of several demons — an’ break runes tha’ were nae meant ta be broken by anythin’ short of a god.  I’ll say one thing, Fergus.  It’s nice ta see ye have such a high opinion of yer mother.”

The horses were growing restless, and the next race wasn’t far off.  They needed to leave.  Crowley teleported to his mother’s shoulder, then teleported again with her in tow.  Thankfully, it was the one thing that was no different as a rat.

It was only a short hop.  They appeared outside the stable, around the back of the building, thankfully alone.  The first thing his mother did was to swat him off her shoulder — he twisted midair and teleported safely to the ground — with a screech of, “What in th’ bloody hell do ye think yer doin’?”

“Mother!  You need me.  Lucifer’s free and he’s gone to look for the poor girl who’s got his bun in her oven.  Once the Morningstar has his hands on his son, he’ll be unstoppable.  I’m fully aware I should have told you before all this happened, but what’s done is done and we can’t put the genie back in the bottle, now can we.  This is an all hands on deck situation.  Lucifer needs to die.”

“Fergus.  My wee boy.  Ye’ve gone stark ravin’ mad, ye have.  There’s no killin’ an archangel.  Bollocks, where’s God when you need Him?  D’ye think He’d come back an’ take care of all this if we prayed hard enough?”

If only Crowley could roll his eyes, he would.  “I believe Chuck and Amara are on the deluxe tour of the cosmos and won’t be back until...ever.  No, God doesn’t even help those who help themselves now.  So, if you don’t mind, would you _please_ help me get my body back so we can go enlist some more help in preventing Lucifer from taking over the entire bloody planet?”

Looking stunned for a good moment, Rowena visibly composed herself.  “Tomorrow is Mother’s Day.  I had _plans_ to go to brunch with Estevan.”

“Estevan?  You’ve found another beau to buy you pretties, have you?”

“What?  No, Estevan and his partner are some of the delightful folk I’ve been brunching with on Sundays.  Apparently gay brunches are a thing now, and they’re such lovely conversationalists.”

Crowley did a poor impersonation of his best exasperated sigh.  “Fine.  If you can break the spell on my body and repair the damage, I’ll take you and your brunch gays out for Mother’s Day.”

Her smile full of false cheer, Rowena replied, “Ye’ll do that an’ more, Fergus.  Ye’ll owe me big time.  An’ still I’m doin’ this only because yer right.  We do need everyone fer this.  So aye, ye have a deal.”

* * *

The damage was easily repaired.  He would need a new suit, but the meatsuit under it was all fixed.  As for the spell binding Crowley to Lucifer, it turned out Rowena had been correct in her thinking.  She was sure she could break it with enough time, but it wouldn’t be easy.  In the meantime, Crowley had a promise to keep.

After the initial shock, Estevan and his partner, Carl, proved to be as lovely as his mother had claimed them to be.  They even managed to keep her civil throughout the entire meal, which was nothing short of a miracle.  It took copious amounts of magic to not only translate Crowley’s speech for the table, but to also keep the restaurant staff from kicking him out, but apparently his mother thought it worthwhile.  Something about forever treasuring the image of him trying to pick up an entire strip of bacon with his little furry paws.

Let her keep her petty victory.  Crowley had more important matters to deal with.  Soon, he would have his body back, and it would be time to figure out how to deal with Lucifer once and for all.  Priorities.

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! This is a fic for SpnColdestHits. That is, it was inspired by the Coldest Hits [ prompt ](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/160700614773/spncoldesthits-mays-prompt-posting-dates) By the time the competition begins, I'll be away on vacation, so I wrote and posted for the fun of it. I know this whole thing is going to be Jossed on Thursday, but for now, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> As always, if you liked it, please leave comments and kudos. They're the fuel that keep me writing. And if you feel like following me on Tumblr, you can find me there as @thayerkerbasy


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